Starlit Spirits
by ofLadyTauriel
Summary: Tauriel is Captain of the Guard to the Dutch Lord Thranduil Greenleaf, his palace, and his winery. Kíli aspires to be Olympic figure skater, but he is also prone to mischief, such as attempted theft of expensive wine on the whims of a dare from his brother. Despite the drastic differences of their lives, something is missing from both of them.
1. Chapter 1

******Hello! Thank you for reading this. This is my first fanfiction _ever_, so please feel free to leave constructive criticism. Thank you to my wonderful beta StarlitTauriel, so edited this first chapter. I will try to post a new chapter around once a week, but if I have the time, there may be two, instead. Thanks again.**

"One bottle of Pinot Noir for you, sir," muttered Tauriel, slamming an antique wine bottle on the table. It was Christmastime, and the customer had been rude. Not to mention Lord Thranduil would probably give her crap about having to be there for loyal customers and tourists on Christmas Eve.

"This is a palace!" Tauriel had proclaimed, organising the Cabernet bottles in row forty-seven of the extensive vaults of Mirkwood Palace. "Isn't Christmas about spending time with your family in the comforts of home, not attending a museum and stalking some infamous Dutch lord?"

"It is also a vintage wine seller," the lord had reasoned, with barely a twitch of his elegant eyebrow, "and you don't have to be a connoisseur to wish for a bottle of Merlot for Christmas Eve dinner."

Tauriel had sighed, relented, and thought about how she would only be doing Legolas and Gimli a favor by not pouring out her betrayed soul to them. They had suddenly gone on holiday, alerting her over voice mail, and were probably fucking each other out in front of a warm fireplace at this very moment.

Honestly, Tauriel had not the slightest idea why she let herself end up here. She was the Captain of the Guard of the Lord Thranduil Greenleaf, living in his rich manor on the countryside of the Netherlands, managing his billion-dollar worth connoisseur's wine collection, all the while managing to pine over Prince Charming, her boss' son. Legolas _did_ have the aristocrat's title, and his leather boots, shockingly expensive clothing, and golden locks did nothing to change her feelings. He also happened to be gayer than all of San Francisco put together. How could Tauriel have known, after living through her university years and seeing him in conversations with an endless string of infatuated women, that he had a man on the side? That they were planning on getting _married_?

Meeting Gimli had been quite an experience for Tauriel, as it was the grown man's bulky form, much lesser height, and practically floor-length beard that screamed Legolas Greenleaf's type at her. And at all other "fair maidens", with whom the young man dealt with throughout the university years. Legolas was not only not interested in them, but was also one himself. Luckily, Gimli's loyalty was to Legolas, and Tauriel, with a deflated heart, had wished them all of her happiness.

Tauriel smiled nostalgically, as she remembered the trust and comfort in the couple's gazes at one another. She then promptly blocked off any thoughts that would lead to her being depressed over her inevitable loneliness on Christmas Eve.

As Lord Thranduil had left it in her responsibility to close up the wine cellar every knight, Tauriel removed the particular accessories from her uniform - a weapon belt covering her waist with two daggers and one gun, and a name tag with calligraphic spelling of "Tauriel Lilly" - and began to lock up the individual wine cells. However, as she was Tauriel Lilly, it would be her whom fate had thrown upon the horse of catching thieves at Mirkwood Palace. Was she such a qualified guard, that God placed all of these responsibilities upon her?

"Quickly, Óin!" a voice hissed somewhere to her left. She whipped around immediately, spending only half a second to think about how the twirl of her green dress, left in the comforts of home, would have made her seem like a queen. "Search the Syrah wine aisles! We're looking for the 1997!"

_Thieves? Vagabonds?_ excitedly thought Tauriel, grabbing her wooden bow and an arrow sling from her locker. Her bow was personally carved. Anything can happen to a woman in a pretty dress on a dark street, and she might as well make them go down with fashion. She ran as swiftly and lightly as possible in the direction of the voice.

"Kíli, here it is, here it is!" yelled another. Provincial accent.

"Fíli was wrong about you failing! Wishes he could be here, eh?" yelled a third.

"What the hell are you bloody idiots doing?" exclaimed another one exasperatedly. "Thorin told me to keep his eye on you during his business trip, not let you steal antique wine from a lord's palace and flaunt your stupidity!"

"Oh, I'm doing neither of those, Bifur, as I am only borrowing it as a token of my cleverness and agility," assured the first mischievous individual, apparently named Kíli. Tauriel almost jumped in surprise at the realization of its closeness.

She sprang into action, kicking up her booted toe to turn on the light that she had earlier flicked off on her way to the cellar. What faced her was around a dozen pairs of surprised eyes blinking in her direction. Right in front of her stood a man, about a head shorter than her six foot self, with tied back dark brown hair, a now fading grin, and a bottle of 1997 Syrah wine in his hand.

"Well, then," she sighed with a newfound confidence, aiming the bow to the man's foot. Shooting it would be the perfect strategy to avoid running and death. "You have exactly five seconds to place the bottle near my feet, or I will shoot. And I have a kill shot, I assure you."

He gaped at Tauriel, obviously not having enough thoughts on his mind except for Tauriel's alluring pose, draped over the wall with her leg kicked up as she was. He probably could not even register his own hesitation, but an older man's whip to the crown of Kíli's head and a growl of "Do as she says, Durinson!" made Kíli comply.

"Now that you aren't at a risk of me killing you," Tauriel articulated, lowering herself into a menacing stance, using her height to her advantage, "give me one good reason why I shouldn't slam the alarm at right this moment, signaling to the police, locking all of the doors in the whole building from the outside, which can only be opened by a key that you don't have." She waved her arms at the red alarm box a few aisles down the cellar.

"Umm... I, uhh..." Kíli attempted to articulate. Quite painfully for Tauriel's ears and patience. "My brother dared me to retrieve a bottle of this quality wine?"

Rolling her eyes, Tauriel shot the arrow through the glass box, slamming the alarm with full force. As Kíli swirled around to gape at her perfect aim, she swiftly located the handcuffs in her back pocket and locked them in place over his unguarded wrists behind his back. Grabbing her purse, she unlocked the vault cellar door, grabbed him by his shoulder and scruff, and pushed him roughly up the stairs. She wasn't going to let her responsibilities as the Captain of the Guard at Mirkwood Palace give way to the feelings now blooming into butterflies, as she felt his muscular shoulder and wavy hair underneath her slender fingers.

"But Princess, wait!" came Kíli's breathless, protesting voice, suddenly hoarser and deeper than Tauriel remembered. _Don't think about it, don't _think_ about it,_ she insinuated to herself. Just another idiot, another jerk, someone who wanted to use her to get to Lord Thranduil - quite an influential figure, even if an unofficial one, in the Netherlands - and an actual thief at that. Would she have the heart for it to be broken again? And the height! What happened to wishing for a blonde young prince, a warrior like her, standing at six foot five?

Oh, yeah. "I am not a princess, fool, but a warrior. My name is Tauriel Lilly, Captain of Lord Thranduil's Guard. Watch yourself," she spit out, giving him a kick to the back of his knee and urging him towards the lobby of the extravagant building. Had she been less of a romantic than she was, she would have forced herself to stop secretly enjoying their bantering. She would make herself stop thinking about swaying her hips as she walked, knowing that her red hair matched starkly with the trim cut of her tailored suit jacket and her slim hips.

"Aren't you going to search me?" Kíli feigned wonder cockily. "I could have anything down my trousers."

_Thinks he's a smooth bastard, does he?_ Tauriel huffed to herself, slowly turning to face the man. "Or nothing."

Jeers, hoots, and hollers came from Kíli's company, which had been surrounded by the guards working under Tauriel, alerted by the sound of the siren. They were not making much protest as Tauriel's assistants pushed them to the front hall of the palaces, as they understood the consequences of their actions. She smirked smugly at Kíli's aghast face. Tauriel led him to the door, cuffed him to the rails near the entrance of the palace, and met the newly arrived inspectors as they ran in with a mass of backup police forces, alarming sirens, and panicked citizens.

"Captain Lilly!" puffed out the nervous detective inspector, hands on his knees. "Who are these rascals?"

"I caught this one, a _Kíli Durinson_, leading a raid of attempted theft for wine from Lord Thranduil Greenleaf. On a childish _dare_." sighed Tauriel, feigning boredom. "Arrest him and his accomplices."

"Are you sure you want to give me up already, Lady Tauriel, Captain of the Guard?" Kíli looked at her with something close to genuine interest. Tauriel returned the gaze, afraid of allowing her desperate longing and loneliness to show.

"Goodbye, Mr. Durinson," Tauriel bade, dismissing the inspector to lead this mysterious man away.

Tauriel entered her flat, wrapping her arms her slim shoulder to protect herself from the chill of the northern winter. She did indeed know her reason for ending up in Lord Thranduil's concerned gaze and under Legolas' comforting wing. Tauriel smiled, as she glanced at the lonely photograph positioned above her fireplace. Despite the absence of any holiday decorations, she almost felt the spirit of Christmas once again. The man in the photograph long blonde hair, resembling Lord Thranduil's and Legolas'. The woman had short red hair, much like Tauriel's, and she was wearing the coarse green dress that now hung awaiting in the young woman's bare closet. The girl in the picture was happy, with obvious overwhelming shock written all over her laughing features. In her hands she held a wooden bow. Tauriel looked at the dress, love for her mother surging through her chest. She rubbed the length of the bow, remembering her father's hands teaching her to aim for the very first time.

She thought back to spending her first Christmas dinner with Legolas' family during her latter university years, after what had happened that summer. The pain and the tears that accompanied becoming an orphan came afterward. Now, Legolas would be away in a romantic haven, while Thranduil would obsess over a book in his huge library, secretly worried for his son and his choices as an adult. So tomorrow would be different.

Tauriel smiled, and gathered up her courage in a sigh of contentment. She didn't have to feel loneliness, even if tomorrow would be different. _I don't have to be lonely again._


	2. Chapter 2

******In case y'all didn't notice, I made a _Stardust_ reference there - Tristran and Yvaine are Kíli's OTP, right? With Kíli's whole "she walks in starlight" and everything. And, you know. Yvaine is a star. The parallels!**

******Even though he is eighteen in human years in _The Hobbit_, Kíli is nineteen here. I tried to make the age difference resemble, and I don't want there to be too much of an age gap between him and Tauriel, who is older. She's attended university, remember? More on the dwarves' ages is explained here.**

******Thank you all for reading. And thank you to my wonderful beta, StarlitTauriel!  
**

"_Kíli_!" boomed the obnoxiously recognizable voice, echoing through his aching head. It snapped open Kíli's drooping eyelids and pulled up his falling chin, forcing him to hit the wall behind him with the crown of his head. _Ow,__ thought Kíli. _

The voice was as present in his life as the ignorance of his current dull figure skating coaches, but possibly even more unwelcome, if such a thing were possible.

Speaking of figure skating, he really should be training, instead of sitting in a smelly jail cell. Kíli groaned. "Yes, uncle?"

"What the absolute, bloody hell were you " Thorin began, but seemingly decided not to uselessly waste his breath on lecturing his reckless nephew. He waited until the guards opened the cell doors to drag Kíli to his feet. "Why does this always happen, Kíli? Does it really take less than twenty-four hours of my absence for you to fall back into your ridiculous, immature habits?"

Kíli gripped his rune stone, willing for the moment of the most unwanted but necessary conversation of the decade, the elephant in the room, and the plague of the Durin family to pass by peacefully. Obviously, the fact that it was _Thorin Oakenshield__, an extremely successful company investor, who was bailing Kíli out of jail, after having canceled his obviously vital business trip, was already a sign that Kíli didn't have any luck at all. _

"Kíli," the young man's uncle began, willing his nephew to understand the reasons behind his watchfulness neither for the first nor last time, "you know that it has been my responsibility to ensure the success in your figure skating career since you were an adolescent "

With a roll of his eyes, Kíli barked, "Well, I'm not a child anymore!" Couldn't Thorin just leave Kíli alone with his morose thoughts about losing practice time?

It was his own fault, really. He could have just shoved his brother's inkstained papers in Fíli's face and told him to cut it with the idiotic dares. However, sometimes Fíli could be just as mischievous as Kíli. After all, it was easy to manipulate someone with writing. Especially if one's younger brother is a sucker for certain online unpublished works online, centered around romances of various fictional characters. Fíli would always claim that he didn't understand the big deal of it, but he wanted a sequel to that heartbreaking piece his brother had written about Tristran and Yvaine from Stardust, and if it meant going through with smuggling a bottle of Syrah wine from Lord Thranduil himself, so be it.

As he mused about why this is how he decides to spend his less than a month before nationals, he realized that it was honestly better to feel sorry for oneself in solitude than in the company of someone who wouldn't take one's bullshit. However, judging by Thorin's pained expression, as if Kíli had just kicked a couple of kittens, the younger man knew that a lecture was awaiting him. _Here we go again,__ he thought to himself. _

"You claim to be an adult, and yet your actions resemble those of the seven year old boys who train at your studio, chasing each other around the rink." Thorin impatiently made out. "You're only nineteen; nationals are in less than _one month_; and you keep telling me that you can't work with your coaches. It's unfortunate that Balin is unable to oversee your current training, Kíli, because he would have put you in your place. Even though he is already recuperating after his surgery, I cannot ask him to come and babysit you. God knows that you do not listen to me, but I _am_ your family, and you _need_ someone to support you right now."

"Contrary to popular belief," enunciated Kíli, rubbing his temples and standing up to brush past his uncle, lead them down the hall and out one of the jail's side exits, "I _am_ actually training." Very diligently, in fact, and this conversation was just wasting his time. "You just happen to choose your shower of financial goodies over actual presence and morale boost as a way to support me."

Kíli sensed Thorin's famous dagger-throwing glare as he walked ahead of him. Kíli intentionally posed his own silence as a challenge. However, his uncle remained silent, and rightfully so.

In theory, he may indeed have been Kíli's guardian from the year he turned ten until the coming of his eighteenth birthday last year, but there was no emotional investment in Kíli's passions for skating and ambitious dreams of competing at the Sochi Olympics in 2014. Fíli supported him as much as any brother could manage, by accompanying him to national and international competitions, sharing a flat in the comforting bustle of Amsterdam, and giving all the suggestions he could make in relation to the inevitable interactions that Kíli had to have with people, such as coaches, judges, and sponsors. At the end of the day, however, Kíli was only one year his senior. In other words, twenty years old and suffering from the same bereft feeling that haunted both of them for the past nine years.

"I know that I am not able to be here the same way your mother was for you, Kíli, and for your brother as well," Thorin stated quietly, as the two stepped out into the light of the sunrise that reflected off of the fresh snow, sparking in dangerous, dancing twirls. Thorin had taken the earliest flight from London to Amsterdam, where the police had taken the arrested Kíli, but the latter's presence in the jail lasted through most of the night. Thorin laid his hand on Kíli's left shoulder, stopping his movement and forcing his nephew to face him. "You know I am trying to give you the opportunities of a lifetime. Dís' loss hurts me as much as it does you, even after almost a decade, and the selfishness that runs deep within me impedes my ability to be an emotionally stable supporter and comforter to you. I am sorry."

It was in that moment that Kíli looked into Thorin's eyes and saw his mother. His mother, whose uncanny resemblance to his uncle never extended to her demeanor, as her comfort was as tangible as was his distance. His mother, whose black hair Kíli now wore, wavy and uncut. His mother, whose blue eyes twinkled whenever she laughed with her sons, much like Fíli's did when Kíli won at yet another competition. His mother, who had held his hands whilst he stood on ice skates at three the first time in his life. His mother, who had worriedly called Kíli as reckless as could be, and yet still laughed with him and loved him for it.

His rune stone felt heavy in his pocket, but the weight of the universe felt heavy on his heart.

"It was nice seeing you, uncle," Kíli managed nonchalantly, and left.

He arrived at the public ice skating rink a quarter after seven. He was grateful for the early time; he had no energy to walk another hour to reach the indoor studio that he shared with a local hockey team, and he didn't want to attract a full audience just yet.

He had stopped at his flat along the way to grab his equipment bag more like skates, towels, a dozen water bottles, and a CD player, really. He had noticed the new decoration around the flat a half decorated Christmas tree and lights half attached to door perimeters. It had seemed as if Fíli had taken the opportunity of Kíli's absence to attempt at adding a little Christmas spirit. Kíli had snorted, as he hated Christmas.

His mother had loved it.

Kíli stood on the ice now, barely aware of the Chaminade Concertino that he had turned on and not noticing the moment he his body began to guide him around the rink. He was lost in thought.

That girl today, that he had met. What was her name? _Tauriel,__ his memory supplied. She had obviously taken her responsibilities in ringing the police on him, but she had not seemed unamused. _

He had not gone into Lord Thranduil's palace for a girl, obviously, not knowing there _would__ be a girl in the first place. One had been there nevertheless, and now she was one of the delightful things prancing around his mind. _

Well, in the short time he knew Tauriel, no prancing had been involved. There had mostly been accurately shot arrows and death glares.

Her green eyes and their mindful gaze were seared into his memory, a strangely comforting presence, but he pushed them and the rest of thought away as much as possible in favor of the muscle memory now urging him push himself harder.

And so Kíli skated on.


	3. Chapter 3

******Hey, readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am personally quite in love with it. Aren't Kíli and Tauriel absolutely adorable? Poor Tauriel, though. I bet she so wished to have fallen in love with that six foot tall prince. Yet destiny has a mind of it's own.**

I**f you have noticed, I have actually changed the setting to the Netherlands, because Amsterdam was a location that I wanted to use, and yet I totally thought it was in Denmark! I literally - okay, look: Danish, Denmark; Dutch, the Netherlands, Holland? How the _hell_ am I supposed to remember any of that? But anyways, thank you for coping, and I'm sorry if you're upset with the slight discontinuity.**

**I researched a bit of Amsterdam trivia. Tourist attractions I found here; the weather I found here; and about the ice skating I read here.**

**The piece to which Kíli was skating is "Time to Say Goodbye" by Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli. You can see the video that inspired Kíli's motions and listen to the song here. **

**A swallow is a type of bird commonly noted in the Russian background, and it's long tail gives the camel spin, a popular spin in figure skating, it's name in Russian. When Tauriel mentions Kíli to look like a swallow, she is probably seeing him do the camel spin, right?**

**Also, even though Tauriel does not express her thoughts in figure skating terminology, because she is not a professional figure skater herself, I used this to guide me through which motions are which, and I will be using it in Kíli's chapters.**

**Next week, I won't be posting a chapter, because I'll be writing a Johnlock Valentine's Day fic as a Secret Valentine gift. Please check it out? I will love you forever!**

**Thanks again to my beta, StarlitTauriel!**

The pine green color of Tauriel's dress, hidden only partially over a cozy yet fashionable course jacket, matched the Christmas Trees speckled all over the skating rink. She passed her hands over her skirt nervously.

Even though she wasn't planning on meeting anyone that night, in her heart and spirit she held her mother. She could hear her mother's quiet laughter and feel her mother's warm hand over her little one, from so many years ago, when her parents first took her to see the city. Amsterdam was one of the most unusual places, according to Tauriel, who was a girl raised on Mirkwood's moors. People detested each other's company, unable to tolerate the busyness of their interconnected lives. Yet somehow, they thrived in it.

She really loved Amsterdam. As a teenager, she watched videos compilations online of people's trips around the globe, and Amsterdam was one sight to see. It was a whole new world for tourists, provincials, and countryside folk alike. It had a vast choice of museums and exhibitions, such as the Anne Frank House and Van Gogh Museum; Protestant churches standing from as early as the fourteenth century, such as the Oude Kerk, Nieuwe Kerk, and Zuiderkerk; the Royal Palace on the Dam, and other architectural masterpieces; concert halls and opera houses such as the Concertgebouw and the Stopera; the Heineken Brewery and Albert Cuyp Market found in the De Pijp, and even a string of red-light districts. Tauriel had never been to the latter, but Legolas had once tried to get her to accompany him to De Wallen for "a new and wonderful experience of a lifetime", and Tauriel, under the impression that Legolas would probably be smuggled into a prostitution ring himself, beat the idea straight out of him. Now, Tauriel stood at the Leidseplein, a perfect plaza for ice skating at Christmas. At seven in the evening, the bustle of the streets was already beginning to dim, and the lights were being turned on in the cozy flats of Dutch citizens spending Christmas Eve in the comforts of their home and family. She was not alone at the ice skating rink, however, and her resolution to appreciate the day drew her forward.

As she waited in line to pay for the entrance, she marveled at the sight of little kids bundled up in winter apparel, their mothers probably doing all they could to protect them from the light winter breeze. It wasn't even that cold a winter - the snow had been light the previous evening even in Mirkwood, which was north of Amsterdam, causing the city to be almost free of any precipitation. Only a moderate drizzle had occurred that afternoon, and it was apparent today in the slippery surface that was the ice, in contrast to the usually coarseness fallen snow and low temperature provided. It was six and a half degrees celsius, which was very good for a December evening. The black tights and thick woolen socks hidden underneath her floor-length dress, as well as her long sleeves, kept her warm enough.

Having gone through the line, Tauriel sat down at a bench nearby to strap in her figure skates, beginning to feel nervous already. The last time she had stood in these, it was after her first and last experience with extreme and unadvised alcohol usage. She had gone out to a local Mirkwood pub with Legolas and some of their university acquaintances, who had thought it would be a great idea for their drunk unstable selves to get some skates and fool around on the frozen lake nearby. Obviously, Tauriel was the one to be slammed with full force onto a particular span of thin ice, resulting in a near death experience, an iceblock of humanoid, and even a call to 112. Tauriel remembered it almost fondly, still cringing at her lack of responsibility and state of inebriation, which had led to the said events.

Sitting in that exact location near the skating rink, Tauriel could make out a sight that had been previously hidden from her by a couple of decorated pines. It was a gathering of a small yet growing crowd about a third into the rink, and it appeared to be encircling something fascinating. She heard occasional gasps and applauses, feeling the energy reverberate from the audience. _Maybe it's a performer?_ Tauriel mused.

Striding over to the edge of the rink and getting onto the ice was a challenge in and of itself, helping her predict her level of success on the actual ice - no success whatsoever - with one hundred percent accuracy. However, as she was now interested in what was going on, she shakily made her way further onto the ice. Just as she neared the edge of the now dense crowd of people, she heard the background music transform into something recognisable - a piece from her romanticised past, "Time to Say Goodbye." Using her height to her advantage, she peered over the heads of the people in front of her. Staring at the sight before her, her jaw promptly dropped.

Never in a billion star lifespans would she have imagined Kíli, that almost-forgotten persona of her yesterday in her day-to-day life, standing - no, not standing, _thriving_ and _pulsing life_ on a pair of skates with confidence and exuberance, gliding along the ice like a spring swallow.

She looked on, enamoured by the connection each of his movements formed with the music. He began from a crouched position, rising with the first infection of music into a glide, arms extended and one leg repeatedly guided in a series of calm spins and twirls. She noted his training attire, a tight black t-shirt and biker pants, which, under regular circumstances, would not have protected him from the cold. Both fit his body quite snuggly, outlining the contours of his defined yet lean muscle, even where she could not see his dark skin. His hair was pulled back in a tight braid that extended to the small of his back, its length almost a match for hers. Despite his clean-shaven look, expression of sheer bliss, and light smile, he seemed older than she could have imagined after meeting him yesterday.

Suddenly, with the introduction of the chorus, his movements became sharper and more intense, with the flinging of arms in time with the cymbal crashes as well as the build of tension in his sitting spin, which he extended into a standing one and followed it with a butterfly-like jump. He looked at home on the ice, relaxed but explosive, calm but intense, serious yet joyful. Tauriel could not remember seeing something so sublime in her entire life.

The jump seem to appear from out of the fringes of Tauriel's universe, which was narrowed down to staring at the beautiful sight before her. It was a triple axel - Tauriel knew only the basics from watching the Olympics in the previous years - followed immediately by a double axel, causing applause and enthusiastic whoots from the audience. Tauriel broke her trance with difficulty to find herself having broken through the crowd to the front line. Had Kíli's eyes been open as he coasted the opposite side of the rink, he would have noticed her.

As the thought flashed through her head, the rise and fall of the music seemed to pull Kíli into a brilliant toe touch, and he opened his eyes to greet the wild cheers. However, they locked only on her.

Tauriel aimed for a smile, just to test it out and see if she could avoid looking like a fool, but she undershot and landed on a grimace. Not only had she been caught staring, but the clear shock written on his face caused him to momentarily still his moments, throwing him off of the tempo of the music. However, he quickly recovered, and, to Tauriel's poor lack of luck, flashed her a familiar, gleeful grin.

With the fall of intensity within the piece, Kíli skated over to her in obviously unchoreographed yet still graceful motions. A murmured surprise passed over the audience as he stopped in front of her, looking up to meet her eyes, overflowing with emotion. He extended a hand, and she took it, shivering as surprisingly slim and long fingers caught her own. She could barely register being pulled into his embrace, and she could barely stop herself from falling over when he gave her an experimental ballet-like twirl, causing him to gently laugh.

"I'm only a singles skater, Tauriel," he whispered, pulling her along with him. The chorus returned, and he glided around her excitedly, occasionally dipping to be almost horizontal, and at other times doing small jumps, letting his hands brush against hers. The opera voices of the song extended into intense chords, signifying the end of the piece. At each note, Kíli, with his original dance long forgotten, built up the intensity with spins, slides, and jumps, finally falling to his knees in front of her in a passionate statement.

Tauriel could feel tears beginning to stream down her face, and she pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes, willing to hide her often overbearing emotions from Kíli. Could this mean anything more than a show for the audience? The surrealism of it all was threatening to come up and choke her, but Tauriel battled it down with the adoration that was seeping through her entire body, solely for the man that was now looking up at her with a worried expression. Her hands, lifting from her face and revealing her tear-stained cheeks, extended to him. He stood, lightly taking her hands and pulling her to him, and wrapped his arms around her waist, fitting his forehead into the crook of her neck.

Standing there, in the midst of cheering onlookers, in Kíli's sturdy and protective arms, with a few of his long hairs tickling her shock-stricken and tearful face, and underneath the fall of tiny snowflakes, Tauriel felt the most content in the longest of times.


	4. Chapter 4

******Hey, readers! I'm back! The next few chapters are already written, and I will be posting them as soon as I can. If you have noticed, I have slightly altered Balin's role in the story. I changed some of the previous chapters in relation to this to help eliminate discontinuities.**

**There are several international competitions, in which many figure skaters of Olympic standards annually compete. They include the Grand Prix Final, the Four Continents Championships, the World Championships (or Worlds), and the European Championships. Jaap Edenbann is the skating rink that was used in the winter olympics, when they were held in the Netherlands, and EKIJSA is a real figure skating club in the country. The Dutch Figure Skating Championships (or nationals) are not actually in January, but I used the idea of the nationals of the United States for the purpose of timing in the story.**

**Thank you so much to my amazing and wonderful and lovely beta, StarlitTauriel! Without her, I would probably never be coherent. Also, her constant support, patience, and love helps me find confidence in my writing.**

Kíli took the opportunity to end the embrace and slightly distance himself from Tauriel, albeit awkwardly, after the applause faded, and the audience began to disperse. He recognized that he wasn't even remotely adequate in the areas of romance and relationships, so he forced himself to tread its waters slowly. He remembered what Coach Balin had drilled into him from the beginning to the end of their work together. _Breathe the ice; be the skates; feel the fire. Eat the exuberance; drink the fame; dream the gold. _

In the midst of being caught up with seeking world fame, going to almost ten competitions per year the last few years, Kíli never had the time for a normal childhood or adolescence. He bounced from tutor to tutor, coach to coach, homeschooling never offering fully accurate social cues. There were no mentions of relationships at all. The only acquaintances he had were his cousins and brother, whom he had nicknamed "the Company." They were there to support him throughout the beginning of his career as a child star. First in Erebor, his home town, just a few hours away from the capital; next in Amsterdam and in several European circuits and championships; and finally in the national competition of Holland. He hung around them during his rare free time, so of course he did not know how to properly act in a situation such as this.

Tauriel was staring at Kíli with a look he could not quite understand, the roots of her emotions buried deep within her eyes, unreachable and unfathomable. It resembled yearning for something intangible and far away. It was unsettling, not knowing what, but also recognising it from his own experiences and subconscious, fleeting feelings in his life. The sudden connection and familiar nostalgia forced him to look away.

"So, uh..." he muttered, scratching the crown of his head, "Maybe coffee?"

Tauriel's face burst into a smile. "I'd love to," she responded.

A few minutes of walking to the nearest coffee shop found them standing in the line to order, surrounded by an awkward silence. Kíli was not sure how to begin a conversation. When they finally busied themselves in the so important action that was drinking coffee, Tauriel decided to break the ice. Kíli almost snorted at the internal pun.

"So," Tauriel began, clapping her hands in visible peppiness, "when were you going to tell me that you ice skate - no, not ice skate, ice _fly_? Or something."

"Or something?" Kíli grinned. "Well, I've known you for less than twenty-four hours. Believe it or not, I never expected to see you again after last night."

Tauriel's face visibly fell. "No more wine cellar raiding?"

"Nope!" exclaimed Kíli. "I've decided to live a better life. It's like I'm a new man!"

The two broke into laughter, both content with their newfound easy banter. Kíli listened to the radiating smiles in her words and to the breathlessness in her whispered giggles. Being here and doing this, for the first time in his life, felt like standing at his first competition, knowing he had nothing to lose with a quad jump. It was risk worth taking, a jump over the edge, and a possibility of endless glory. However, before every reach for the gold came a chasm of failure and obscurity, which another can easily surpass. It was a matter of choosing what was most important.

"You're so good," Tauriel almost sighed in amazement. Kíli smiled, remembering the number of fans he had encountered at the Four Continents Championships and the Grand Prix Final, as well as the World Championships. Luckily, it was Japan and England that had welcomed him earlier that year, the Grand Prix happening at the beginning of December, and he left behind his fears of a huge publicity behind upon coming back to train at the EKIJSA Figure Skating Club and the Jaap Edenbann.

"Oh, really?" answered Kíli haughtily. "My performance was good enough for you?"

He immediately regretted his words after seeing the flush embarrassment on Tauriel's high, sharp cheekbones.

"I'm sorry," she made out, "but I barely know how to tie my skates. I've never talked to someone as professional as you before." After a pause, she said, "Tell me about yourself. What you do."

This was never a question Kíli had expected throughout his secure, paved out life, every step leading him in the direction of stardom. His young childhood demonstrated his bright future. His mother had shown undying support, and the Company understood his passion as well as his childish love for mischief, for which he rarely had the opportunity. Homeschooling and the minimum required academics, overshadowed by a total of roughly ten hours of on- and off-ice practice each day, created a wedge between himself and the flow of the regular outside world. A constant goal in his mind, to be one of the few Dutch figure skaters to make it to the Olympics, was always just beyond the horizon. Now, January approached with the Dutch Figure Skating Championships, which would decide his fate. Being surrounded by either competition or support, he was never required to explain himself.

Tauriel's wonder, something new, unexpected, yet pleasing, limited his ability to fully express his thoughts.

"Well, for one," he began, "I skate. Compete. World competitions and the like."

"What about the Olympics?" Tauriel asked. A fair question. Kíli sighed.

"I'm trying," he responded, "but only the Dutch Figure Skating Championships of 2014, in the last week of January, can decide that. New skaters have risen to fame since last spring, including those that have never competed against me."

"Then what are you doing, staining your records and future with your useless paroles around Mirkwood Manor?" Tauriel exclaimed. "How can you just risk throwing away everything like that? You were thrown in jail. _I_ ensured that you would be thrown in jail. What if there had been no one to bail you out?"

"It's okay, truly. There always will be someone, because such is my life as a famous athlete. Don't blame yourself. My uncle and sponsor, Thorin Oakenshield, bailed me out. In fact, he gave me the same lecture as you, and he has had to deal with me for many, many years." Kíli threw a bittersweet smile Tauriel's way, causing her to wince apologetically. "And I do train quite a bit, actually. I was ending my third practice session of the day, knowing there would be more people that would come for recreational skating, just before you arrived. I myself was there from early hours of the morning, and my regular studio, Jaap Edenbaan, is closed for the day because of recreational Christmas Eve skating, to no surprise."

Tauriel's look of shock was layered over with discomfort, as if she had questions that were too embarrassing to ask.

"Just ask," Kíli prompted her.

Tauriel, looking flustered, said, "I don't know how to _be_ around you, Kíli. You are nothing the person I thought you were, and everything the person I never had the opportunity to hope you'd be. I just work at a lord's manor. There are days when I think I can't cope, but there are days where you must instead think that you need to survive."

Outside, the stars that overhung Amsterdam, many remaining brighter and more visible than the city lights, were beginning to rise. The dim lighting of the café allowed the lights of the the celestial bodies in the sky to paint a plain of white on Tauriel's face, her freckles standing out like fallen meteorites. She was looking out the window in wonder, and a fleeting thought passed through the the outskirts of Kíli's mind. However, he grabbed on it. _Like a gift I can't keep_, it whispered.

It was the wonderment of this young woman that seemed so important to him, more _there_ than anything he had felt before. Was this love? At what, second sight? It seemed unlikely, possibly too good to be true.

For Kíli, love was finding a home on the ice, when he couldn't find it in his mother's arms. It was skating to be, not just to skate, to train, or to win. It was flying as if his heart were trying to break free of its chains. The chains grounded him to reality, a reality that was ironically, and unlikely, were it anyone else, a future of figure skating, flowers, and fame. Sometimes, he just wanted to push himself physically, mentally, and spiritually over the edge for his own calm state of mind, his own salvation, and only for that. It was a vividly imagined thought that left him with nostalgia instead of hope.

"I don't know if I can explain to you whom I am beyond the expanses of my career as a figure skater," Kíli amended, "but I can show you, if you will let me."

Tauriel nodded, returning her cappuccino mug and following Kíli outside of the café. She did not ask where they were going, and Kíli felt a slight flutter in his chest at the thought that she trusted him. His heart began doing triple axels from excitement, and he did not wish to stop it. Instead of leading her to Leidseplein, he walked in the direction of the nearest metropolitan station.

After he paid for her ticket, Tauriel finally asked, "Where are we going?"

"Just wait and see," he responded. "I have something in mind."

In his opinion, something remarkable.


	5. Chapter 5

******How is this for a change in style, guys? I have to say, Mad_Lori's works within the Performance in a Leading Role, the ones that consist of interviews that John and Sherlock attend, are what inspired me to write a chapter such as this.**

**Dianne de Leeuw is a Dutch silver Olympic medalist for figure skating. Sjoukje Dijkstra is a gold Olympic medalist, a five-time European Championship gold medalist, and a three-time World Championship gold medalist.**

**Thanks so much to my beta, StarlitTauriel, for reading my work and supporting it!**

[Transcript of preliminary commentary of the Dutch Figure Skating Championships by veteran Dutch Olympic figure skaters, Dianne de Leeuw and Sjoukje Dijkstra on NOS Studio Sport on January 23, 2014.]

Dianne de Leeuw: It's been quite an eventful year for the Netherlands in terms of figure skating. The ISU reports that there will be _three_ competitors per category of figure skating, which competed at the 2013 World Figure Skating Championship. That includes the three medalists of the Dutch National Championships for each of the following categories: men's single skating, women's single skating, and ice racing. That is more Olympians sent from the Netherlands in one go than in the whole history of our country!

Sjoukje Dijkstra: If I recall correctly, you were the last Dutch Olympic figure skater who placed?

Dianne de Leeuw: My silver compares marginally to your gold, ma'am! I am proud to be here with you tonight, and for the following few days here on NOS Studio Sport.

Sjoukje Dijkstra: Let's take a look at what exactly opened the gateway to Olympic competition for the Netherlands.

[A video of the award ceremony at the 2013 World Figure Skating Championships is played. In ladies' single skating, Carolina Krostner from Italy stands with bronze; Galadriel Alatáriel from the Netherlands stands with silver; and Yuna Kim from South Korean stands with gold. In men's single skating, Kíli Durinson from the Netherlands stands with bronze; Denis Ten from Kazakhstan stands with silver; Patrick Chan from Canada stands with gold. In ice dancing, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir from Canada stand with bronze; Meryl Davis and Charlie White from the United States stand with silver; and Aragorn Arathornson and Arwen Undomiél from the Netherlands stand with gold.]

Dianne de Leeuw: Let's take some time to appreciate our country's new heroic generation of Dutch figure skaters! While skating myself, I had never expected this to happen. However, now that it has, how can I be anything but pleased?

Sjoukje Dijkstra: The rules of ISU, or the International Skating Union, dictates that if one skating individual or team is sent from a country to the World Figure Skating Championships, then it takes receiving either a silver or gold medal for the country to receive three spots for that same division in the Olympics. You can see this in the results of Galadriel Alatáriel, and Arathornson and Undomiél.

Dianne de Leeuw: In the case of Durinson, who only placed third at Worlds, it took the most recent competition, the Grand Prix Final in December, to secure a third spot in men's singles. Had he not placed, having won bronze at bronze would have allowed only two men to compete at the Olympics.

Sjoukje Dijkstra: In the ladies and ice dancing divisions, our winning Dutch competitors do not have extreme competition: the other two teams and individuals from each division are rookies, some previously junior skaters, and others who did qualify for Worlds.

Dianne de Leeuw: However, Kíli Durinson, nineteen and from Amsterdam, originally from Erebor, has competition. It is a Dutch figure skater Azog de Moria, twenty-five, who is an Olympic veteran. However, he only placed sixth at World's.

[A clip of de Moria's performance from the 2013 World Figure Skating Championships short program is shown. He falls on a quadruple toe-loop, but lands combination of a quadruple salchow into a triple toe-loop. Later in the performance, he falls on a triple axel.]

Sjoukje Dijkstra: He is a very technical yet very emotional skater, as you can see from the execution of every movement. However, his excess muscle, in comparison to other, slimmer skaters, is factor of his body that often plays against him.

Dianne de Leeuw: He won second place at the Nebelhorn Trophy, too, I believe?

Sjoukje Dijkstra: He did. Durinson did not perform in it, because of his Olympics spot already becoming practically secure at World's.

Dianne de Leeuw: De Moria's coach is Saruman Maia, who also trains a handful of junior competition winners, including Bolg de Moria, a distant relative of Azog de Moria, and Shagrat de Mordor, two competitors at the national competition, which begins tomorrow with the men's short program. The two both placed at the Junior Grand Prix Final, silver and bronze, respectively, making them eligible for national championships, that will determine who will Holland send to the 2014 Sochi Olympics.

Sjoukje Dijkstra: In men's singles, that makes the competitors Kíli Durinson, Azog de Moria, Bolg de Moria, and Shagrat de Mordor. One will not qualify to the Olympic Games. Let's take a look at the performances of our best bet, Durinson.

[A clip of Durinson's performance at the 2013 World Figure Skating Championship short program is shown. He performs a quadruple toe-loop, triple toe-loop, double toe-loop combination, a triple axel, double axed combination, and a quadruple jump into a butterfly aerial kick. His motions are visibly executed with stability, but are also pushing on the level of comfort. He lands his jumps with minimal error. They are repeated twice in slow motion.]

Dianne de Leeuw: Perfect posture, flawless jumps, everything completely rotated. Everything is precise, and even his quads aren't messy. In the axel combination, you can see him come close to a fall, but he pulls through on a wobbly leg. A hand stabilises his drift.

Sjoukje Dijkstra: However, as someone who has been skating and coaching for many years...

Dianne de Leeuw: [laughs] Your utmost professional opinion, ma'am?

Sjoukje Dijkstra: My thoughts? The pure emotion written on his face, derived from the music, is what takes him through the motions. They're not just motions, they're a dance, a _flight_. He's obviously competing because of his own passion for skating. If he didn't want to be there, in that moment, he wouldn't be there.

Dianne de Leeuw: Let's take a look at some of his more recreational performances.

[A clip of Durinson's performance at Leidseplein in Amsterdam on Christmas Eve to "Time to Say Goodbye, the pieces for his free skate performance for the 2013-2014 season, is shown. He stops halfway through the performance and pulls a member of the crowd out into the centre of the ring. He skates around her and pulls her with him during random motions, and ends the performance with an embrace.]

Dianne de Leeuw: Wow, what a lucky young woman. Who wouldn't give to have the affections of a young gentleman aspiring to be an Olympic medalist?

Sjoukje Dijkstra: Indeed, an aspiring Olympic medalist. We will all be rooting for him tomorrow, and if fate so dictates, in Sochi.

Dianne de Leeuw: After the commercial break, we will be back with more on the flying success of our starstruck ice dancing team, Aragorn Arathornson and Arwen Undomiél.


	6. Chapter 6

******How is this for a change in style, guys? I have to say, Mad_Lori's works within the Performance in a Leading Role, the ones that consist of interviews that John and Sherlock attend, are what inspired me to write a chapter such as this.**

**Dianne de Leeuw is a Dutch silver Olympic medalist for figure skating. Sjoukje Dijkstra is a gold Olympic medalist, a five-time European Championship gold medalist, and a three-time World Championship gold medalist.**

**Thanks so much to my beta, StarlitTauriel, for reading my work and supporting it!**

[Transcript of preliminary commentary of the Dutch Figure Skating Championships by veteran Dutch Olympic figure skaters, Dianne de Leeuw and Sjoukje Dijkstra on NOS Studio Sport on January 23, 2014.]

Dianne de Leeuw: It's been quite an eventful year for the Netherlands in terms of figure skating. The ISU reports that there will be _three_ competitors per category of figure skating, which competed at the 2013 World Figure Skating Championship. That includes the three medalists of the Dutch National Championships for each of the following categories: men's single skating, women's single skating, and ice racing. That is more Olympians sent from the Netherlands in one go than in the whole history of our country!

Sjoukje Dijkstra: If I recall correctly, you were the last Dutch Olympic figure skater who placed?

Dianne de Leeuw: My silver compares marginally to your gold, ma'am! I am proud to be here with you tonight, and for the following few days here on NOS Studio Sport.

Sjoukje Dijkstra: Let's take a look at what exactly opened the gateway to Olympic competition for the Netherlands.

[A video of the award ceremony at the 2013 World Figure Skating Championships is played. In ladies' single skating, Carolina Krostner from Italy stands with bronze; Galadriel Alatáriel from the Netherlands stands with silver; and Yuna Kim from South Korean stands with gold. In men's single skating, Kíli Durinson from the Netherlands stands with bronze; Denis Ten from Kazakhstan stands with silver; Patrick Chan from Canada stands with gold. In ice dancing, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir from Canada stand with bronze; Meryl Davis and Charlie White from the United States stand with silver; and Aragorn Arathornson and Arwen Undomiél from the Netherlands stand with gold.]

Dianne de Leeuw: Let's take some time to appreciate our country's new heroic generation of Dutch figure skaters! While skating myself, I had never expected this to happen. However, now that it has, how can I be anything but pleased?

Sjoukje Dijkstra: The rules of ISU, or the International Skating Union, dictates that if one skating individual or team is sent from a country to the World Figure Skating Championships, then it takes receiving either a silver or gold medal for the country to receive three spots for that same division in the Olympics. You can see this in the results of Galadriel Alatáriel, and Arathornson and Undomiél.

Dianne de Leeuw: In the case of Durinson, who only placed third at Worlds, it took the most recent competition, the Grand Prix Final in December, to secure a third spot in men's singles. Had he not placed, having won bronze at bronze would have allowed only two men to compete at the Olympics.

Sjoukje Dijkstra: In the ladies and ice dancing divisions, our winning Dutch competitors do not have extreme competition: the other two teams and individuals from each division are rookies, some previously junior skaters, and others who did qualify for Worlds.

Dianne de Leeuw: However, Kíli Durinson, nineteen and from Amsterdam, originally from Erebor, has competition. It is a Dutch figure skater Azog de Moria, twenty-five, who is an Olympic veteran. However, he only placed sixth at World's.

[A clip of de Moria's performance from the 2013 World Figure Skating Championships short program is shown. He falls on a quadruple toe-loop, but lands combination of a quadruple salchow into a triple toe-loop. Later in the performance, he falls on a triple axel.]

Sjoukje Dijkstra: He is a very technical yet very emotional skater, as you can see from the execution of every movement. However, his excess muscle, in comparison to other, slimmer skaters, is factor of his body that often plays against him.

Dianne de Leeuw: He won second place at the Nebelhorn Trophy, too, I believe?

Sjoukje Dijkstra: He did. Durinson did not perform in it, because of his Olympics spot already becoming practically secure at World's.

Dianne de Leeuw: De Moria's coach is Saruman Maia, who also trains a handful of junior competition winners, including Bolg de Moria, a distant relative of Azog de Moria, and Shagrat de Mordor, two competitors at the national competition, which begins tomorrow with the men's short program. The two both placed at the Junior Grand Prix Final, silver and bronze, respectively, making them eligible for national championships, that will determine who will Holland send to the 2014 Sochi Olympics.

Sjoukje Dijkstra: In men's singles, that makes the competitors Kíli Durinson, Azog de Moria, Bolg de Moria, and Shagrat de Mordor. One will not qualify to the Olympic Games. Let's take a look at the performances of our best bet, Durinson.

[A clip of Durinson's performance at the 2013 World Figure Skating Championship short program is shown. He performs a quadruple toe-loop, triple toe-loop, double toe-loop combination, a triple axel, double axed combination, and a quadruple jump into a butterfly aerial kick. His motions are visibly executed with stability, but are also pushing on the level of comfort. He lands his jumps with minimal error. They are repeated twice in slow motion.]

Dianne de Leeuw: Perfect posture, flawless jumps, everything completely rotated. Everything is precise, and even his quads aren't messy. In the axel combination, you can see him come close to a fall, but he pulls through on a wobbly leg. A hand stabilises his drift.

Sjoukje Dijkstra: However, as someone who has been skating and coaching for many years...

Dianne de Leeuw: [laughs] Your utmost professional opinion, ma'am?

Sjoukje Dijkstra: My thoughts? The pure emotion written on his face, derived from the music, is what takes him through the motions. They're not just motions, they're a dance, a _flight_. He's obviously competing because of his own passion for skating. If he didn't want to be there, in that moment, he wouldn't be there.

Dianne de Leeuw: Let's take a look at some of his more recreational performances.

[A clip of Durinson's performance at Leidseplein in Amsterdam on Christmas Eve to "Time to Say Goodbye, the pieces for his free skate performance for the 2013-2014 season, is shown. He stops halfway through the performance and pulls a member of the crowd out into the centre of the ring. He skates around her and pulls her with him during random motions, and ends the performance with an embrace.]

Dianne de Leeuw: Wow, what a lucky young woman. Who wouldn't give to have the affections of a young gentleman aspiring to be an Olympic medalist?

Sjoukje Dijkstra: Indeed, an aspiring Olympic medalist. We will all be rooting for him tomorrow, and if fate so dictates, in Sochi.

Dianne de Leeuw: After the commercial break, we will be back with more on the flying success of our starstruck ice dancing team, Aragorn Arathornson and Arwen Undomiél.


	7. Chapter 7

******The world record for the free skate and both of the results combined is set by Patrick Chan. They are 196.75 in the free skate and 295.27 in the combined total, which is only a little higher that Kíli's score now. I used Chan's free skate program and performance of the 2013-2014 season, that you can watch here, to recreate Kíli's.**

**Thank you so much to StarlitTauriel, who is amazing for dealing with me constantly sending her chapters!**

Kíli shook his legs out impatiently by the skating rink, waiting for Azog de Moria to finish his free skate performance. The order of competitors went from the least experienced to most, taking the results from yesterday's short program into account, in which Kíli had placed first, but Kíli couldn't help but feel sour. De Moria's performance had almost been flawless, but he had landed a triple toe-loop on two feet. The younger competitors hadn't fallen, either, neither yesterday nor today, and their combined scores were considerably high. Kíli's highest scores were greater than these, but he would really have to push himself to maintain the lead. He still had the potential to fall on a jump and lose almost everything, including the Olympics. And who knew how good he would be at twenty-three, four years later?

Kíli watched de Moria, assessing him and his skill. He was bald and contained a dark, unpleasant set of asymmetrical features. His jaw was set in a tight line, and his whole face creaked with every triple jump. The butterfly came unnaturally, but his head looked up to face Kíli. The latter saw the dangerous glint in de Moria's eyes, the cruelty in his grin. Kíli turned around and breathed. He needed to focus.

_Your warm-up was flawless,_ he told himself. _Don't let the crowd get to you. Don't let the possibility of a gold or a disqualification or a fourth place or a deduction for a terrible fall get to you._ He willed his heart rate to slow down.

He wished Coach Balin were here now, but he knew that was too much to hope for. He had been at the hospital on a few weeks ago, and putting pressure on him with the responsibility of prepping Kíli at nationals, and consequentially at the Olympics, if fate so granted, just was not fair. Supporting Kíli was too much of a responsibility, and Kíli didn't want his coach to see him crumble under the pressure, which Kíli needed to force himself to maintain.

So when Kíli heard the applause for de Moria die away, as the minute interval between each performance ticked away, he turned around instead to meet Thorin's eyes, which looked both vacant and searching. Fíli stood next to his uncle, and the rest of the Company, excluding Balin, looked at him nervously from behind their shoulders. Fíli extended his hands. Kíli grasped them, keeping his eyes on his uncle.

"I know you say your motivation isn't driven by the need to win so much as to experience everything you can," Thorin told him urgently, "but don't miss out on this opportunity, an almost once-in-a-lifetime one. Don't let down Coach Balin, who took you through this season. Don't let potential frustration appear between you and I, or you and your brother."

Kíli felt exasperation rise up to choke him. Of course, his irresponsibility and personal motivations would never be good enough for-

"Kíli, no matter what happens," Thorin interrupted Kíli's thoughts, "we will always support you. This is _your_ moment. You're almost there, and I know how much you want to actually feel it. Don't let _yourself_ down."

Kíli blinked and surprise, and then nodded, flustered. After a final sip from his bottle of water, he skated to the centre of the rink. He smiled his open, almost genuine smile, which, as he was told, was even more blinding than the multiple thousand dollar purple long-sleeve, whose speckled crystals reflected the stadium's lights. He waved to his audience all around the stadium, circling the inner rink and staying in motion. Finally, he arrived at his starting pose, an open-armed stance.

As the music began, Kíli tried to calm his mind and listen to his body. Looking up, and following his arms as they led him through the movements. He vaguely remembered that there was a quadruple salchow triple toe-loop, a quadruple toe-loop, as well as his enemy, the triple axel in there, somewhere. However, just as he knew Time to Say Goodbye in the pull of his muscles when he stepped onto the ice for the short program, The Four Seasons and Corelli Concerto Grosso vibrated through his every motion from the start of the music for the free skate. This was music Balin had picked for him over a year ago, using the suggestions of the choreographer to listen to Kíli's natural inclination of mastering figure skating as an art form, and transforming the art form into a dance of the soul.

Kíli _knew_ the choreography like he knew himself. He _knew_ just how much height he needed to succeed in the triple axel, even though a stumble and a clean fall after it had taken him down to fourth place in the 2014 European Figure Skating Championships, which ended just five days ago. _Stop thinking, _he reminded himself.

Kíli opened his heart. The movements weren't just motions he articulately executed: they were a flow. Each gesture, each kick, jump, and slide, was like a wave, crashing onto the shore with accuracy and precision only to transform into a breathtaking, huge sensation that was the sea. The sea for Kíli was the bows, the spins, the butterfly kicks, and the pull of Vivaldi; the build of the emotion of Corelli and the wave crests over the return of the Four Seasons.

Kíli's body would not stand in the way of the flow of the melody that pulsed within him. It was an instrument, led by the motion that guided him into its bidding.

Kíli ended with a smile, and he barely felt himself bowing in the different directions to his audience. He waved, dimly aware of the cheers, whoops, hollers, and roaring applause that came his way. After circling the rink and picking up the two bouquets the fell from the stands, he exited, falling into Fíli's open arms. Momentarily, he was surrounded by the bear hugs of the rest of his friends.

Thorin and Fíli led Kíli to the infamous bench, at which the results were announced at every competition. Fíli swung his arm around Kíli's shoulders, while his uncle passed him a towel.

"You look in shock," he commented.

"Do I really?" Kíli countered. "But I have to ask: how did I do? I got carried away, I'm afraid."

"Your best performance yet," Fíli assured him. "I wouldn't be surprised if you beat your top score. This performance was legendary."

"_The score for Fíli Durinson from Amsterdam for the free skating performance is... 192.83._"

Upon the grand screen, Kíli saw his own face and sheepish grin, as well as the results presented with his name: first place in the short program with 95.97 and first place in the free skate with this unbelievably sky high result searing elation through Kíli's heart, making him the best figure skater of the Netherlands, with a total score of 288.80.

"That's almost a world record," he whispered to himself. "And 5.31 points higher than my previously best score."

He stood up, sheepishly grinning and finally waving to the rest of the crowd, which he could tell was going insane. He wondered, for a few fleeting moments, if Tauriel could see him now, watching from a TV either at home or from work. And if she could, was she proud of him? Was she elated in her young, innocent happiness, giggling in light of his accomplishment? Of was she judging each of his movements, repeated on the big screen, attempting to criticise him in a manner similar to a professional? He shook his head, clearing it of his lingering thoughts. He did not want to make Tauriel bear the responsibility of caring for him and his life, and he could not stand the thought of having to say goodbye to her only to return to endless longing.

He felt as if the universe was engulfing him, pulling him into an endless trance. He felt dazed and dizzy with disbelief. He was going to the 2014 Sochi Olympics. _I am going to the Olympics,_ he repeated to himself, this time truly believing it.

Looking over at Fíli's elated face, he could tell that his brother could easily tell what he was thinking.

"Yes, this is happening," Fíli assured him. "You're going, and with good prospects, too. However, worry about placing later. Right now, this is a monumental victory."

Fíli put a hand on his brother's shoulder, thankful for the support. Looking back at the stadium, which was now being set up for the award ceremony, Kíli truly felt the ability within himself to relax. He had done it.

The award ceremony had been a blur, shining at the peripheral of Kíli's memory, as he exited the Thialf Stadium of Heerenveen, Netherlands. He held the official bouquet, presented to him at the ceremony, loosely in his right hand, and his gold medal hung around his neck with gentleness and ease, as if not willing the responsibility of such a victory to be a burden. There was a swing to his step, as he walked toward the metropolitan station, preparing to make his way to the hotel to deposit his skates and his beautiful new accessory. Afterward, he would return to a local pub for the after-party with the Company. A celebration was truly in order.

It was in light of the happiness and sense of accomplishment, that coursed through his mind, body, and spirit, that Kíli did not notice the dark figure that trailed him through the alleyway, with the light outside descending into dimness. It blended in with the shadows created by the city buildings, and only when he made the turn onto a completely deserted block that it made its move.

A sharp blow the back of his knees, a cut at his calves through the black material of his performance pants. A fierce blow to the head, an angry glint of malicious, laughing eyes, and darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

******Someone's gone the Tonya Harding level of crazy, huh? I wonder who it is!**

**Thanks so much to by beta, StarlitTauriel, who will possibly no longer beta for me for the next two or so chapters that I post, because of how busy she is. If you like my work so far, really, it's probably because she was able to help pull my writing of despair.**

Tauriel, dressed in her black work uniform, absently removed the newly washed wine glasses from the washing machine. She wiped them dry with a towel, hanging them around the appropriate slots in the wall around the winery room at Mirkwood Manor. She was trying to pay attention to Legolas but could not. For the first time, the distraction was not provided by Legolas' aesthetically pleasing appearance or by any thoughts related to him, but by her almost unconditional happiness. It was placed there by Kíli, whose performance she had finished watching over the television not even a couple hours ago.

The Dutch Figure Skating Championships were not over, as far what Tauriel could make out from the figure skating terminology and jargon of the commentators. Only the two male divisions were. The first one, which she realised was called the short program, had been the day before, and the free skating portion had just ended. Despite her lack of understanding of almost everything of what the commentators had said, she could agree on one thing: Kíli skated like the world was ending, falling into pieces before his very disbelieving eyes.

With every reach, his muscles contracted in his upper arms, as if he were searching for a helping hand out of hell. With every glide out of each jump, he looked at the audience with eyes full of tears that refused to fall. With every biellmann spin that he executed, what she realised had captured her attention the first time she saw him on the ice, he looked like a lonely swallow searching for spring.

When she watched him, her heart constricted, mirroring his. When he reached out, she wanted to fall on her knees before him and cry.

All of this emotion left her shell-shocked, and almost unprepared to tell Legolas of her new interest. Almost.

Her friend was currently lying on the couch in the large living room, down the roomy hall from her, complaining about almost getting arrested for shooting an arrow at a tree stump in the middle of the city. The television was turned on in front of him, and after finishing with her task, Tauriel joined him to aimlessly watch some evening news.

"Tauriel, you do know that you will have to spend the rest of your life battling away crazy worshipers and fangirls of Kíli?" Legolas asked her. "He's a national champion, as well as an international champion and medalist, and for amateurs, he will be the new Dutch sensation."

Tauriel blushed. "Legolas, I don't even know if I'll ever see him again. As much as I would love to be by his side, I have no doubt in my mind that he doesn't wish for me to trail him on his path of camera and stadium lights. He has enough on his plate already."

Legolas looked at her for a moment, almost as if uncomprehending. "You mean to tell me that you have no plans of seeing this man, who you just accidentally described to me as the love of your life, or at least the crush of the century, somehow _without_ it seeming obsessive, unrealistic, and cheesy, ever again?" He stared at Tauriel with such horror, that she couldn't help but cringe.

"Before he skated away from me at the end of the night on Christmas Eve, he made it quite clear that our paths have no place intertwining," Tauriel confessed. "Besides, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to get a hold of him."

"Do you not have his contact information?" Legolas asked in disbelief.

"Somehow, in the time we spent together, we didn't think of trading mobile numbers, no," Tauriel amended.

Legolas suddenly jumped onto his feet in obvious frustration. "Dammit, Tauriel Lilly!" he growled. "This one shot at genuine happiness, and you dismiss it with a wave of a hand? No matter what he said or did at the end of the night, I _know_ that he will regret not seeing you again."

"I too, regret it," whispered Tauriel. She hoped she had imaginations and dreams enough of a future with Kíli and of a warm presence intertwined in her life. However, a mention of Kíli's name over the broadcast pulled her out of her morose reveries.

"Look, look!" she gestured to the television, pulling Legolas by the arm for him to plop down next to her on the couch. On the television, a photo of Kíli's smiling face, with a wave of one hand and a gold from a competition in the other, slowly expanded on the screen to the news reporter's voice.

"_Kíli Durinson, nineteen-year-old Dutch figure skater and national champion, having assumed this position after taking first in the short program at the Dutch Figure Skating Championships yesterday and first in the short program today, was found an hour ago, shortly after the medal ceremony, beaten severely on the ground in an alleyway near Thialf Stadium, where the competition had taken place._" Dread began to ominously flow into Tauriel's body, and she knew that even if she tried, she wouldn't be able to get a breath past the tangible horror welling up in her throat. She felt Legolas' urgent hand on her upper arm, but she wasn't able to move any part of her body for what seemed like an endless moment.

Her heartbeat was in her ears, pulsing, throbbing, counting down until the inevitable panic kicked in. It's erratic beat clouded her hearing, and only vague statements made by the news reporter made their way through her confused, murky thoughts.

"_...severe blows with wooden batons to the back... a concussion with possible internal damage... coma... both legs broken at the knees..._"

Tauriel finally felt her tears flow, and their descent down her cheeks pulled her into reality. She jumped onto her feet, running to get her bag and personal belongings in her locker. Legolas followed her.

"What are you doing?" he inquired angrily.

"I have to go to him. I have to get to Heerenveen," she said seriously, out of breath. "It's only two hours away by train."

"It's already past eight in the evening. You'll be there at at least eleven," Legolas told her. "Visiting hours will be over, and how will you even pass as a member of family?"

"I can't... I..." Tauriel was at a loss for words. She didn't know how to classify, much less explain, the thoughts, feelings, and sentiments passing through her whole system. The only thing she was that they covered a complete emotional spectrum. She threw Legolas an apologetic look, not knowing what to say.

"Tjongerschans Ziekenhuis Health Facility," he said tiredly. "That's where he's hospitalised."

Tauriel nodded her thanks and hurried out the door.

It took a short bus ride to get to the blocks of flats of Mirkwood, from where she took a metropolitan train to Amsterdam. Only then did she purchase a train ticket to Heerenveen, the last train being at 9:30.

The mix of more passionate emotions, like anger and frustration at the situation, seeped out of Tauriel's body, as she boarded the lonely train cabin. She leaned her head against the window at her seat, nerves, sadness, and concern coursing through her tired limbs.

She knew she had many conflicts to face at the end of the night, but she hoped nothing would hold her back from being at Kíli's side.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks to my beta, Thrandildo, for editing this, despite not even shipping Kíliel! It's wonderful that she put up with this.**

Kíli was skating again. He was aimlessly going through a routine he had performed two years ago, a contemporary piece by a wind ensemble known as October arranged by, American composer Eric Whitacre. It had been the perfect track for his free skate; it was just his style, lyrical, melodic, morose, as well as relatively calm with the few builds that corresponded with his difficult tricks, of which he did not have that many at seventeen. It was one of the pieces he had yet to perform.

It did not strike him as surprising that he was able to execute his motions with barely a thought, but it did bother him that he was letting himself continue aimlessly. He shook his head. There was something he needed to remember, wasn't there?

Skating. Skating was what Kíli was always doing. It was his only option, when he was at a loss, or when he wasn't ready to break past the barriers he couldn't help but set for himself in all areas of his life. Now, gliding across ice as comfortably as one would bathe in a warm tropical ocean, Kíli automatically felt that there was something he should be looking for, searching for, so far away and yet so near.

Despite the ice beneath the blades of his skates, the fog that engulfed him, and the light of a distant setting sun, Kíli could feel a new warmth from all directions pull at his limbs. The hard, smooth ice beneath him felt as a pillowed cloud, supporting and guiding him to his destination.

He could make out that path of moonlight when he heard her voice.

_Hers._

Muttering in a language he could not understand and was only interrupted by soft sighs and broken sobs. Tauriel, his lady, crying, somewhere. How could he continue on this meaningless path and passively stand by, allowing someone he cared about to experience this pain?

_It is easier to forget, to let all go,_ a conniving voice whispered in his head. _You know you will have all that will satisfy you, if stay you in a world of perfect dreams._

_Yes..._ agreed Kíli. It was hard to resist the soft pull of the cloudy expanse of peace suspended in the world of dreams beneath him. However, it was like a veil that needed breaking before it let through the flow of life. The flow that was everywhere and nowhere, around him and within him. But, more importantly, where Tauriel was crying.

_Over me..._ The accident. This must be why he was here, separated from the pulse of red, iron-based blood that was visible on Tauriel's awkwardly prominent cheeks as she blushed, or on her thin fingertips from frostbite.

"Tauriel," he whispered, closing his eyes to the sky of imagination in his head, opening his senses to the overbearing pain of his whole physical body.

A gasp, and a response. "Be still," she whispered.

Opening his eyes again, his vision roughly adjusted to a sight more beautiful than he could ever expect seeing: Tauriel, her face etched with worry, standing at the foot of his bed.

"You cannot be her," he made out of his parched throat in disbelief, looking away and up, where her tear-filled eyes could not pierce his throbbing heart.

He could feel himself slipping again, away from the gentle hands he sought with a single straining finger. "She is far away. She... She is far, far away from me."

_Is it her?_ he asked himself. _She, who I sent away with my stupid words and my careless thoughts, that something, anything, can be more important than having someone like Tauriel Lilly? How can I put a job, or a life goal, or even a realistic dream, over her happiness? Over my happiness?_

"She walks in starlight in another world," he finally murmured again. "It's just a dream. Do you think she could have loved me?"

Careful fingertips, softer and more fragile than his weary, course hands, let themselves be found. "Yes," she responded. "She could have."


	10. Chapter 10

**Yes! I finished. I sincerely thank anyone who has taken the time to read this. I hope I made you love Tauriel and Kíliel just a little bit more. Any comments are welcome!**

**I would like to thank my beta, Thrandildo, once again, because she really is awesome for betaing for me, despite her personal opinions about this fic. Thanks, Bela!**

**Stay tuned for more fics coming starting next weekend!**

_Four Years Later_

"Listen, Kíli, listen!" Tauriel yelled, spinning around, hitting Kíli in on the shoulder with the spatula she was holding.

"What?" he asked in irritation. "Leave me alone, _Jesus_."

"You really don't want me to recite this new poem to you?" Tauriel inquired in mock hurt. "It's about _you_!"

"Oh, that can't lead to anything good," he taunted her. "Now I'm trembling with fear."

Tauriel cleared her throat, and in mocked pompous, recited the poem:

"_Kíli was like a broken spring swallow, _

_Finally flying at the Olympic Games._

_In nostalgia and sorrow for four years he wallowed,_

_Yearning all night for the games' burning flames._"

Kíli gently pulled the spatula out of her hands, taking them to pull her towards him. The smell of the cooking omelette wafted towards them, but they stood in embrace, wrapped in each other in the warm sunlight that seeped through the windows of Kíli's Amsterdam flat.

"Thats quite a mean and taunting poem," Kíli complained. "Maybe you should just stick to writing newspaper entries." His airy whisper blew softly into Tauriel's throat, and Tauriel had to stifle an inappropriate moan.

"Oh, really?" Tauriel grinned, taking Kíli by the shoulders, spinning him around, and pinning him to the wall behind her. His head rolled back, and his eyes smiled at her through his long, dark lashes. "You really loved the love-inspired angry news article that I had dedicated to you?"

"Nah, just your portrayal of Azog de Moria as another Tonya Harding," Kíli joked. "It had been extremely helpful."

After the events that had come to pass with Kíli at the end of the National Figure Skating Championships, it had been really hard for Tauriel to sit still. She had been elated from joy when Kíli's recovery reached it's end, discharged from the hospital only after almost three weeks. However, during those three weeks, the 2014 Sochi Olympics had come to pass, and de Moria and the two younger competitors shined on the ice with a merciless glint of a black obsidian in their eyes and a stone of dirty coal in the place of their hearts. Only with a sheer stroke of luck, it had originally seemed to Tauriel, that Azog de Moria had placed higher than Denis Ten, placing him at third place after Patrick Chan with silver and Yuzuru Hanyu with gold.

However, strange and frightful news reports had begun to float around the international sports programs, recounting the constant accidents that overtook many of the male figure skaters after short program. They included the hospitalization of a Japanese competitor Tatsuki Machida, after a particular practice in Germany, and the broken leg of a Spanish competitor Javier Fernandez after unexpectedly accidentally tripping on someone's foot while exiting the stadium. These men had placed higher than de Moria during the short program, and Tauriel had begun to suspect that these occurrences, as well as what happened to Kíli, had not been an accident.

The explanation that the doctor had given Tauriel was that Kíli was beaten by a murky figures that tended to live in the neighborhoods around the Thialf stadium, those who lurked in the alleyways through which Kíli had gone. However, the anger that she had felt brewing within her, as men less qualified than Kíli kept taking the opportunity to win while he could not, had made her inquire into the background of the figure skater with suspicious intentions.

Azog de Moria was a figure with a dark past, not particularly happy, as she learned from various credited sources. His father, a widower with his only son and a once successful figure skater, had made him train on the ice since twenty months, in his childhood and adolescence, de Moria had spent long weeks hospitalized, or unable to skate because of casts, due to a constant flow of injuries. Despite wanting to quit, he was pressured by his relentless father to stay in the sport. Many rumors and dark stories were tied to the skater and his father, such as the closing of the skating rink at which de Moria had trained. It resulted, unexpectedly, in the resignation of coaches and the quitting of most of the students.

Knowing this, Tauriel had not been able to idly sit still and let a suspicious criminal, possibly involved in the assault on multiple competitors, become an Olympic medalist. Working at the manor by day, visiting Kíli, who had not gained full consciousness for another two weeks, and researching and writing by night. This had become Tauriel's life. And soon, her claims and long article was published. An official reinvestigation of her plans occurred, and de Moria had pleaded guilty in court.

As much as Tauriel hated to hurt a broken man with an unfortunate past by stripping him of his medals and disqualifying him from all international and national figure skating circuits, it was the path he had chosen for himself.

Kíli had his feet back on the ice, Tauriel's words helping him regain his confidence. However, something deep and meaningful had risen within her as well.

The words that she had written, the thoughts that she bitterly jabbed at anyone who would read her article, were on the paper. It was done. They summoned her back to a pen and paper, or her MacBook and coffee stained keyboard, and she could not help the words that flowed through the tips of her fingers.

Honestly, Tauriel had had not the slightest idea why she let herself end up at Mirkwood Manor. She loved Lord Thranduil and Legolas, and she knew that she was part of their family, like a daughter and a sister, but working as a bartender and guard captain was never a life goal. Now, Tauriel knew.

There were words that sang in her blood, as her heart pumped it through her chest every morning, when she sweetly kissed Kíli good mornings. There were words that flitted through the outskirts of her still-functioning mind, even when he kissed her breathlessly and senselessly while spinning around in the ice, her legs wrapped around his waist, after an exhilarating practice session.

There were words when she cooked him breakfast, even if they were silly and stupid. But these were the words that she had pushed down within her, deep into being, after the death of her parents. It hurt too much to write. How could she write, when the only emotion that her heart projected was unbearable sadness?

Now, Tauriel smiled down into Kíli's open face, and she knew that she had freed the singing caged bird from her heart. He stood in front of her, an open and honest expression on his face, and she leaned down to kiss the small smile off his lips.

"Your flight to Pyeongchang is in five hours," she whispered. Finally, _finally_, the greatest international championship was here. A dream for Kíli, glistening brighter than the dim light of the sun at dusk this day, waiting for him tomorrow.

"And you'll be there soon, too," Kíli insisted.

"I will be," she responded softly.

"But only after you make sure to write the most amazing final paper and secure your Dutch Language Major," he assured her. "You deserve it."

Tauriel grinned, now knowing that this is true. "My supporter and encourager and shining star, Kíli Durinson, I thank you," she said. "Do you have your runestone for luck?"

"No," Kíli responded seriously, waving towards where it rested atop the fireplace. "The runestone has already done its job. Having you, my dear Tauriel, has been my sheer luck. The rest are details."


End file.
